I took Friday off so we could drive to Norfolk, where we were looking after my dad while my mother went to my uncle's funeral. This was slightly nerve-wracking but actually went fine; food and cups of tea were produced at appropriate intervals, we managed to find the cheeseboard for the second lunch and coped without it for the first, and my dad makes enough noise negotiating the stairs that I woke up when he got up and was able to leap out of bed, relieve him of the cup he was trying to carry (he is using two sticks now, rather than one, so carrying things doesn't really work) and make him a cup of tea before he started trying to do it. It was really nice to spend the time with him, actually, and we probably talked more than we have done in years.

My mother got back yesterday afternoon, and shortly afterwards heard from one of her brothers that his pre-flight covid test had come back positive, so we just have to hope that they weren't in contact enough for her to have picked it up. (One of my cousins whose dad's funeral it was is also just getting over covid, but my mother gave her a wide berth.)

And then today we drove back, and by the time we got home it was mid-afternoon on Sunday and I didn't feel like I'd had a weekend at all. I did manage to spend an hour piecing together fabric for the jacket I'm making out of two pairs of old trousers and a top that didn't really work out, and then went for a swim, which has helped a bit. And at least next week is a short week (I'm probably taking Thursday off, and definitely taking Friday.)